


Sex

by fickle_fics



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been nine months now, but it finally happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex

He’s stopped looking away when she changes, she doesn’t make a thing of it because if she does she’s pretty certain he’ll get faintly awkward and she doesn’t need his muttered apologies. What she needs is this - him looking at her casually as if it’s no big deal, because it isn’t. It’s completely natural, but it means so much to her. And now here she is, in their bedroom, Mark reclining on the bed, the bedside lamp on (another new addition to their bedtime routine). She could change into her nightie slowly (a nightie now because she’s increasingly focused on making him want her and she can’t quite see how a t-shirt would do it for him), try to make a show of it, but she knows him better than that, so she just pulls it on and when she turns back to him he’s smiling softly, looking happy and he doesn’t look happy nearly enough for her liking. He pats the bed beside him and she skips over with a smile. It’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay because they’re together and he seems to be growing increasingly comfortable and that’s all she’s ever wanted.

He turns his head to look at her as she joins him at his side and she’s so beautiful, so perfect and she looks so happy and he still can’t believe his luck “Hello, darling,” he says leaning in to kiss her tenderly, turning his whole body towards her as she does the same,

“Hello,” she replies, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair. This is all that matters, them managing to be together like this and it doesn’t matter that it took nine months. She really would have waited as long as it took, because he is worth it. He’s the only person she’s ever met that makes her feel truly happy.

She slips her hand beneath his t-shirt, presses herself against him until he’s on his back and then she’s on top of him and quite suddenly he’s being straddling by an incredibly pleased looking Cassie. “This okay?” she says, beaming down at him, and even if it wasn’t he isn’t sure he’d be able to say it because he can’t be the one that makes that smile fade. The thing is it _is_ okay. It’s actually incredibly wonderful, the weight of her on top of him, and part of him wants to turn out the light but her words replay in his head _you can look. I want you to look_ , and he knows what a big deal that is for her.

“Perfect,” he says and his hands move up to her hips, over the cotton of her nightie, fingers splayed out against her hip bones as he looks up at her. There are so many things running through his mind as he does, things he can’t possibly say because she’ll think he’s lost it, but it’s so difficult not to say them that one of them slips out. “I adore you,” he admits, and he can’t take his eyes off her, it’s as if he can’t even blink because all he wants is the memory of her adoring gaze for when she comes to her senses and he’s on his own again.

Her smile grows bigger and she reaches for his hands, pulling him up to her. Her heart always beats just a little too fast beside him, particularly when he says things like that. People don‘t adore her, Sid used her as a substitute for Chelle and Chris, yeah Chris loved her, but not like this, not like she’s always wanted to be loved, in every way - physically _and_ mentally. She never expected it, but she’s longed for it for longer than she can remember.

She reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, watching him for any sign of discomfort, only there’s none. He leans back, lifts his arms and lets her remove it and he only feels slightly awkward, slightly concerned about what she thinks about his body, because he knows in the rational part of his brain that she doesn’t care. That she really does love him, regardless of all the reasons she really shouldn‘t be able to.

She takes a moment to look at him properly for the first time in some kind of light and he isn’t perfect. He is out of shape, flabby, but she doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter because he’s still Mark, _her_ Mark and that’s all that matters. It really isn’t about appearances, though she does find him attractive, quite unbelievably so, because she never considered someone like him to be her type, but he is. She can’t imagine being with anyone else. She reaches for the hem of her nightie then, and he lets go of her hips, lets her pull it over her body, watching her all the time because he can. Because it doesn’t feel wrong like it used to. His eyes don’t leave her as she tosses her nightie aside in the same direction as his t-shirt, because this might be it, the moment. Possibly. If he can just stop thinking quite so much

And there she is, naked on top of him and he’s seen glimpses before, moments when he’s allowed himself to look at her but never quite like this, never quite so obviously and she is utterly glorious and he has no idea what to do because his mind has short fused at the very sight of her like this.

“Okay?” she says again, because she can’t help but make sure all the time, just in case but he _looks_ okay, more than really. His eyes heavy lidded but focused entirely on her body rather than looking away.

“Cass…” he growls her name, hands on her hips again, and he’s semi hard, because how the hell can he not be in this situation? Her on top of him is what fantasies are made of, and he should have seen it coming really, because of course she’d take matters into her own hands eventually just like he’s always wanted her too, but been too afraid to actually say so.

She inches back just a little, undoes the buttons of his boxers, releasing him and taking him in hand. His cock hardening between them as she runs her hand languidly up and down over it as if she has all the time in the world. And he can see her looking at him, her gaze flickering between his cock and his face, always making sure he’s okay and it’s incredible. It’s near impossible to feel self-conscious with this gorgeous girl looking at him like that, when she’s spent _months_ assuring him about everything he could ever need to be assured _about_. He angles himself closer eager to her touch, lips pressed together with the effort it’s taking not to come right there and then, but as he looks up at her he realises she can read him her hand slowing now and then when his breathing becoming too rough. She knows him, in ways he isn’t sure anyone’s bothered to get to know him before and it’s amazing. Her hand bringing him so, so close then pulling him back. He still remembers all the other times, half dressed in bed, in the darkness of their room, her breath against his ear and her hand on his cock assuring him everything was okay as he came far too quickly in the dim light, barely even able to see her. It’s different now though. They know each other too well - she’s _learnt_ him as if he were a subject and that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t have to worry about coming in two minutes flat, because she knows when to stop now.

Her hand tightens around him, her speed slowing as she bites her lip, the sound of her heart beat pounding in her ears she looks at him, because she’s frightened and unsure and she knows how likely it is that he’ll say no but she has to ask, because it’s all she can think about.

“Can we…?” she trails off, unsure of the exact words to use because she wants to beg him to fuck her, but she’s fairly sure that won’t work as well as she’d like. She presses her hips against his pointedly, and he can feel the heat between her legs against him and it makes him harder still. It’s not that far off a year and it’s ridiculous because this is all she can think about when they’re in bed together in the darkness, touching each other and pretending that is all they need - mutual masturbation with the lights off.

His hands tighten ever so slightly. He trusts her. He really does. Trusts her to take control so he isn’t quite as disappointing as he could be. “Are you sure?”

She laughs a little, her hand tightening in his hair, because tenderness is too subtle, too innocent and that is not what she wants, that is not how she wants him to think of her, not right now. “I’ve wanted this for months,” she says. “So yeah. I’m sure.”

“If you’re sure…” he closes his eyes and forces his mind into quietness. Cass is his girlfriend, that’s all there is to it, fuck the age difference, fuck their pasts, fuck all of that in favour of the loveliest, sweetest, kindest, most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on on top of him, asking him to sleep with her.

“I’m gonna have to move,” she says, the reluctance clear in her voice.

He raises an eyebrow, too lost in her to even try to figure out why.

“Condoms,” she explains. “I love you but…” She can’t do that, not ever because she’d change, she’d get fat and the very thought makes her squirm.

“Okay.”

“Don’t move,” she says kissing him, her hand on his cheek. “Don’t move, don’t _think_. I love you and this is all okay, yeah?”

She moves away reluctantly, opening the wardrobe drawer where she left the packet a few months ago just in case and it’s ripped open and in her hand by the time she gets back to him.

“Okay?” she asks again, even as she’s rolling it down on to him, slow and careful, her lips pressed together in concentration, because she hasn’t done this in a year, and she’s never done it completely sober and in such good light. It’s never been quite as important as it is right now, with him.

“Okay,” he hisses, because it might actually be perfect. “Are you…will you?”

She tilts her head at him, slightly confused. “Will I what?” she asks gently.

“Will you be on top, sweetheart?” The words come out surprisingly easily, because it’s important, because he’s sure that’s the only way he won’t completely lose himself and come the second he’s inside her, the only way he might actually be able to silence the voice in the back of his head whispering about how this isn’t quite right, because it _is_ , nothing has felt this right for years.

“That’s up to you,” she says, because normally it isn’t an option. Normally she just lays there while she’s fucked, or sometimes it’s a mutual thing but she rarely gets to be on top.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, trying to figure how to ask. What it says about him. But this is Cass, Cass wouldn’t judge him for anything, he’s certain of that, but saying it, admitting it out loud is something else.

“I want you on top,” he admits. “If that’s okay.”

She leans in, kisses him hard and hungry as she positions herself against him, and all he’s aware of is how hot she is, how wet, without him even touching her and he’s dimly aware he probably should have, that there should have been some form of foreplay because she deserves this being as good as it can possibly be with him, only it’s too late for that, she’s already sinking down slowly with a low desperate moan that makes his cock pulse and his fingers press into her delicate skin and just for a second he isn’t sure he can breathe. 

“Okay,” she says breathlessly, looking at his face. His mouth gaping, his eyes almost rolled back into his head. “Anything you want, Mark. Anything.”

All he can do is look at her, naked and smiling in his lap. It’s as if nothing else in the world exists apart from her on top of him, surrounding him and she’s so _tight_ he can barely cope. “Don’t move,” he whispers, a slightly pained look on his face. It’s been too long, too long since he had anything even close to this and his body’s screaming at the sensation. If she moves now he’s certain he’ll come and he can’t, he just _can’t_ , not after making her wait for so long. “I just…” he dips his head, a wave of shame washing over him, but before it can really take over, her lips are on his neck, soft and gentle.

“Just tell me when,” she whispers back. “How, anything at all.”

He presses his head against hers, closes his eyes against tears and slides him arm around her waist, fingers trailing up and down her spine. “I don’t deserve you.”

She moves when he says that, ever so slow and ever so precisely, up and away from him before sliding back down again because she can’t quite _not_ , and he shudders and lets out a hiss. “Cass,” he warns into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, still moving, still keeping up that slow precise movement against him. “I’m sorry.”

It’s torturous, slow, wonderful, perfect torture and her voice is breaking on every word and he realises just a little too late that she’s crying and that’s enough to rewire his brain, to pull the focus away from his cock and the ever increasing threat of coming instantly and his turns his head just a little, kisses her cheek again and again and again, kissing away the tears until his mouth’s at her ear. “Don’t cry, darling. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I can’t… _fuck_.” She can’t stop, that’s the thing. It’s like she’s lost control of her body, because she’s dreamt about this, riding him like this, her nails digging into his shoulders while she fucks him hard and fast, and this is nothing like that, but he’s inside her, and that’s enough. That’s all she needs - the feeling of him, hot and hard as she moves against him so slowly so she can feel every part of him even through the condom, and part of her wants to be completely stupid, part of her wants him without anything in the way. She probably can’t even _get_ pregnant. She’s fucked her body up too badly for that, hasn’t she?

“It’s okay,” he says again, kissing his way back to her lips, as he presses up into her, moving himself for the first time, because everything’s changed suddenly. Like the world’s opened up again and isn’t just about the pulsing of his cock and how tight she is. It’s something so much deeper than that, so much more important.

“Mark,” she gasps his name as he thrusts, teeth scraping against his lip, as she holds onto him, one hand cradling the back of his head.

He pulls back just a little, worry written all over his face, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no it’s…” she can’t quite find the word. It isn’t perfect, they both know that, but somehow it’s better than that, because it’s _real_ and it isn’t just her making love to him like she thought it would be, he’s getting involved. He’s _letting_ himself get involved. “Amazing.” She looks deep into his eyes as she presses closer, still keeping up that slow, focused rock against him, and again he presses up into her. “Mark,” she says again, mouth slightly open and curved into a smile. “Can I…” her fingers curl at the back of his head. She can’t keep it up like this, she wishes she could. She wishes she just spend the rest of the night like this, the two of them moving against each other at this speed, but she wants more. She’s never been much good at slow and sensual, it’s always been more rushed and frantic than that for her.

“What?” he breathes, though he doesn’t really care what the question is because the answer will be yes. Anything she wants. Anything at all.

“I need to…” She isn’t quite sure how to put it, and she could just do it, she could just let go, because what’s the worst that would happen? He comes instantly? Like that would bother her? But he should have the option, she can’t just do that to him, she already knows how worried he is about that. “I need to fuck you properly.” There’s no other way to put it. “Just don’t worry, okay? Just…let it happen, whatever it is.” A rather pathetic whine escapes his lips at her words. There’s just something so impossibly sexy about her talking like that, perhaps because it isn’t just talk, she actually _means_ it. She wants to _fuck_ him. _Her_. All he can do is nod.

And that’s all it takes, all the encouragement, all the permission she needs and in a split second everything changes. Her fingers press harder into his skin and then she’s moving much harder, much faster against him and everything’s louder, her breathing faster and ragged, the sound of flesh against flesh obscene in his ears. She pants his name like a mantra in time with her thrusts and it’s too much. Everything is too much. He can’t remember the last time he felt this kind of passion - her body pressed so close against his he can feel the pounding of her heart and he focuses on that, on the sounds, on the way her hair tumbles over her face and tickles his, anything but the friction against his cock, on the tightness in his stomach because even if she doesn’t mind he does, because this might be the most incredible experience of his life so far and he doesn’t want it to be over with quite so quickly.

“Cass…” her name’s drawn out and desperate. He wants to ask her to stop, he wants to beg her for more. Harder, faster. No, no, no!

“Let go,” she manages to say though she’s struggling to breathe already. “Come. It’s okay. I want you to come.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, presses his lips together. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

“Next time you can hold on. Not now. You can come, Mark. _Please_ “ And she tightens herself around him and that’s all it takes. That and her near begging him to come. His eyes are still closed as he feels his whole body tighten, and lights spark behind his eyelids, a loud moan as he lets go, comes deep inside her, her still moving against him, somehow managing to keep him hard and when he opens his eyes she’s looking at him, that huge, delighted smile on her face again.

“See?” she says. “It’s okay, yeah?”

He feels ever so slightly as if he might have a heart attack, but he nods.

“You look gorgeous when you come,” she says, touching his cheek and he twists to kiss her palm, as he tries to catch his breath, blushing at her words. He slips his hand down between them, no longer consumed by trying to delay his orgasm and her breath catches and the muscles between her legs spasm around him.

“Aye, so do you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to.”


End file.
